The Kauravan Stalemate
by Clammoth
Summary: What if the commanders of Kaurava found a copy of "Warhammer 40000: Dawn of War"?
1. Guard Rush

"_Ceiba-ny-shak_!" cried Farseer Caerys. It was an Eldar curse, and not a mild one. The damnable Imperial forces were pouring into her base like a heavily armed insect plague, shooting at every building in sight. The elegant wraithbone structures charred and splintered beneath a pulsing torrent of lasgun fire. They held for now, but they would not withstand the onslaught forever. Occasionally, a beleaguered wave of Guardians would march out of the Webway to fend off the attackers, only to be gunned down within seconds.

In the midst of the havoc, a lone Bonesinger worked frantically to keep the Eldar's buildings intact. He darted this way and that, playing silent songs of healing to speed the wraithbone's regeneration.

Unfortunately, in a show of perfectly awful timing, he blundered into firing range just as the last squad of Guardians fell.

"STORM THEM!" yelled a guardsman, and the entire regiment turned their ire on the hapless builder. He collapsed in a bloody heap, and died with barely a gasp.

The Farseer buried her face in her hands. It was over.

* * *

><p>The query appeared on the screen, as it always did.<p>

"You have been Annihilated. Would you like to look around the map before continuing?"

Caerys frowned. Why did it ask that? It might as well have said "Would you like to reflect on your abysmal failure?" No, actually. Not particularly.

As she moved her cursor over the window, a triumphant voice rang through her earpiece. "I win again!"

"It did not escape my notice," muttered Caerys.

"Uh-oh." At the other end of the connection, General Vance Stubbs leaned back in his chair. "Someone's feeling sore."

"How am I to counter these early assaults? I cannot mount a defence against such numbers. It is absurd."

"You're too conservative. Far as I could tell, the only thing you had when I arrived was one Banshee squad." He paused. "Which you weren't reinforcing."

"I..." She sighed sheepishly. "I forgot to press the button."

"Mm."

"But surely it is better to save one's resources for the stronger units? I perused that...archive...you showed me..."

"The wiki."

"Yes." She still refused to say the word. It sounded ridiculous. "It said that Wraithlords were both inexpensive and powerful. I'd hoped to overwhelm you with-"

Stubbs snorted with barely constrained laughter.

"Do not mock me!" snapped Caerys.

"Sorry," said Stubbs, taking a deep breath. "Sorry. Look, you're _never_ going to get a Wraithlord out before you're attacked. Not if you're sitting on your haunches the whole time. You need to build some troops right away. Guardians. Rangers. No point saving your requisition if you won't get to use it."

Caerys grumbled. It was in her nature to be cautious, thrifty, but it seemed the game would only reward wild expenditure and reckless offensives. It was almost as if she was expected to win battles by...she grimaced at the thought..._attrition_.

"Besides," he went on, "The more squads you build early on, the more points you can capture at once, which means more resources. They'll pay for themselves."

She hesitated. The human had a point.

"True."

"Hold on a second." The earpiece went silent for a moment. "Gorgutz and, er...Necron...want to play a few matches. Do you mind?"

"No. If they can keep you occupied, perhaps I will last more than five minutes."

Stubbs smirked. "Her Highness decrees that you may join us."

Immediately, Gorgutz' voice blared through their collective speakers. "Dis time I is gonna stomp ya, humie!"

Stubbs winced and lowered the volume on his headset. The Warboss' constant shouting was bad enough, but combined with his cheap, staticky microphone, every word became an aural cheese-grater. At least the Necron Lord was quiet.

"We'll see," answered Stubbs. "Teams?"

"Sod teams! I wants a free-fer-all!"

"Fair enough. Four-way battle, Van de Mar Mountains. Everyone okay with that?"

"WAAAAAAAAGH!"

A moment later, Stubbs opened his eyes and donned his headset again. "Caerys?"

"Acceptable."

The Necron Lord tapped on its microphone, once. They had established that this meant "Yes."

"Alright then. Get ready."

* * *

><p>As the war began anew, Caerys surveyed the map. Orks to the left of her, Imperial Guard to the right.<p>

Gorgutz was notoriously impatient. He seemed to enjoy watching his units chop things up more than actually playing the game, and would often spend entire matches building nothing but Slugga Boyz. Some of the others referred to this as "spamming". And if Stubbs used the same tactics he had before, she would be facing a large amount of light infantry in very short order.

Stubbs' headset beeped. He blinked and stared at the screen. The Farseer had sent him a private message.

"what is the shortcut key for guardians"

He couldn't help but grin. "G," he replied. "G for guardian"

"thank you :)"


	2. Take and Hold, Part 1

The Raptors of the Alpha Legion were not having a good day.

As devastating as the Tau could be at range, they were hopelessly poor in close combat. Almost any soldier engaging a Tau squad in melee would sneer and laugh as pulse rifle butts glanced off their armour. Ordinarily, a team of Fire Warriors would have been easy meat for the Raptors' chainswords.

Not so much when two more teams stood on either side, peppering them with plasma fire.

The Shas'la were dying, but the Raptors were dying faster. Their power armour might as well have been tissue paper to the Tau's advanced weaponry. Those who remained gritted their teeth and tore into the Fire Warriors with all the fury they could muster. If they could just finish this squad off...

But then came the Kroot, who were not so helpless in close quarters. And then came the Kroot's war cries, guttural and alien. And then came the Kroot's fierce, leaping charge.

And then came the triumph of survival instinct over bloodlust.

"Take to the skies!" bellowed a Raptor.

In perfect unison, they ignited their Warp-fuelled jetpacks and fled the battle, leaving the battered Tau in peace...for now.

As they landed, a booming, disembodied voice made a dire proclamation.

"**Three minutes until Take and Hold victory!**"

* * *

><p>Commander Or'es'Ka's brow creased at the warning. The opposing team had been holding two of the three critical locations for most of the match. His Tau forces had managed to gain the advantage here, but if something wasn't done about that countdown, it was all going to be for naught.<p>

"What's going on over there?" he asked. "Are you decapping that point or not?"

In response, the voice of Canoness Selena Agna growled in his ear. "Blasted thing is covered in turrets! I can't get near it!"

"How many?"

"Four. All bolters. No missile launchers yet. If I can just get my Immolator in there...argh!"

Or'es'Ka heard something explode in the distance. "What happened?"

"BLOODY SCOURGES AND THEIR BLOODY DARK LANCES!"

He sighed. "My Immolator," she'd said. As in "I only had one."

"MISERABLE WINGED BASTA-"

"Forget it. I'll send something to get rid of them. Keep some Celestians on standby."

There was a pause.

"Er."

Or'es'Ka's face froze. "Please tell me you have Celestians."

"I do," said Agna. "But I assume you want upgraded ones."

The Tau groaned. Agna excelled in small scale, one-on-one battles; there, she could even give Stubbs a run for his money. In larger maps, she had trouble keeping track of everything, which led to situations like this. Celestians running around with plain bolters, rather than their trademark armour-piercing meltaguns.

What sense did that make, anyway? A dedicated anti-vehicle unit that didn't start off with anti-vehicle weapons? What idiots came up with that?

"How long does it take to kit them out?"

"Not long," answered Agna. "I'm doing it now."

"See if you can attack one of their bases in the meantime. That should get their attention. Damn!"

A massive, crablike machine came charging through the fog of war, spewing gouts of hellish Warp-flame. It groaned and creaked as it stomped its way towards Or'es'Ka's soldiers, claws bared and dripping with blood.

"What's the matter?" asked Agna.

"Defiler. I'm going to need a minute."

As if on cue, the announcer called out again. "**Two minutes until Take and Hold victory!**"

"So," said Agna. "That gives us one minute, then."

Or'es'Ka wasn't listening. Already he'd sprung into action, sending squads of Kroot and Vespid into melee with the fearsome daemon engine. They didn't stand a chance, but that wasn't the point. The point, as it so often was, was railguns.

Behind the front line, safely entrenched in a crater, an XV88 Broadside Battlesuit brought its weapons to bear.


	3. Take and Hold, Part 2

A blinding beam of blue light blazed through the air and struck the Defiler, blowing a chunk out of its armour.

Or'es'Ka hunched forward, chewing on his lip. He needed that Broadside to help clear the turrets, but if he sent it away now, his troops would face heavy casualties, if not outright destruction at the Defiler's claws. He'd stop the countdown, but at what cost?

He right-clicked furiously, as if it would make the Broadside fire any faster. Railguns were incredibly powerful, but the wait between each shot was agonising.

"Come on," he whispered, staring at the Defiler's depleting health bar. "Come _on_."

There was an explosion, and plumes of foul, black smoke began billowing from the Defiler's innards. It was still active, but on its last legs. Immediately, Or'es'Ka ordered the Broadside to uproot and loaded it into a waiting Devilfish transport. The infantry would have to wear it down the rest of the way.

"**One minute until Take and Hold victory!**"

"Where are you?!" demanded Agna.

"On my way. Celestians ready?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure, now?"

Agna rolled her eyes. "Watch it, Tau."

The Devilfish didn't take long to arrive, able to ignore the terrain as it was. As it hovered into view, a row of Chaos turrets, festooned with spikes and skulls, opened fire. Perfect. As long as they were focused on the tank, his Broadside could destroy them at its leisure.

But there was still more to be done. Or'es'ka picked out a squad of Tau Stealthsuits and glanced at the bottom-right of the screen. Enough charge for one jump. It would do.

"Send in your Celestians now," he ordered. "I think we've got this."

The Stealthsuits soared at Or'es'Ka's command, landing right next to the critical location. As they got into formation, the flag of the Black Heart Kabal began to sink into the soil.

"Easy. Now we just have to..."

Or'es'Ka stopped dead in mid-sentence, and the Canoness didn't have to ask why.

Dread crept across the Stealthsuit pilots' faces as terrible, armoured figures descended from the sky, blotting out the sun, and the world became silent but for the buzzing of chainswords.

The Raptors were back for more blood.

* * *

><p>Or'es'Ka bit back a curse. This was bad. This was bad, bad, BAD.<p>

As long as even one turret remained, the Tau's stealth fields would be rendered useless, leaving them open to the Raptors' assault. And while they were capturing the point, they couldn't fight back. Not that they could defend themselves from Raptors anyway.

Within seconds, the Stealthsuit Shas'vre fell to the ground, hacked apart, gurgling.

They wouldn't last long enough to finish the job. The turrets had to be brought down at all costs.

Three Stealthsuits left.

The Celestians bored into a turret with their meltaguns, soon reducing it to a pile of glowing slag. A second one was blown to smithereens by the Broadside's railguns.

Two Stealthsuits left.

"**Thirty seconds until Take and Hold victory!**"

Squads of Battle Sisters charged into the fray and laid down a withering barrage of bolter shells, shredding the Raptors one by one. The Raptors paid no heed. They knew their mission.

One Stealthsuit left.

"Krak grenades!" shouted Or'es'Ka. "Don't forget your Krak grenades!"

The last Stealthsuit's health bar turned red...

...and the final turret exploded. The stealth field flickered to life once more, rendering the suit invisible. With their targets apparently neutralised, the Raptors ceased their attack.

"Got it!" exclaimed Or'es'Ka.

The remaining Raptors turned their attention to the Broadside, but were shot to pieces before they could even scratch it. The Tau commander glanced over his shoulder to make sure nobody was watching, then pumped his arm victoriously.

"Alright, this one's in the bag. Let's take it to them. We'll start with the Dark Eldar. They'll go down more quickly."

There was no answer.

"Selena? Are you still with me?"

"Did you say you got it?" asked the Canoness.

"Yes. Just barely."

"Then why is the countdown still going?"

* * *

><p>At the other end of the map, deep behind enemy lines, a group of Chaos cultists crept back into the thick of battle. Mere seconds before the Tau Stealthsuits completed their task, the cultists had completed theirs. Where once the proud, Tau banner of Fal'shia had stood, the ragged flag of the Alpha Legion now flapped in the wind.<p>

"Hwee kaptoored eet for Kay-oss!"


	4. Take and Hold, Epilogue

Archon Tahril of the Dark Eldar folded his arms. Rhinos and Devilfish were sweeping into his base, depositing squad after squad of angry Sisters and Tau warriors, but any further action on his part would have been meaningless. Unless they could destroy both him and the Chaos forces in under fifteen seconds, the match was his.

As it turned out, they couldn't.

"Expertly done," he said, to his microphone.

His teammate, Firaeveus Carron, grunted. "More satisfying to wipe them out."

"A win is a win," said Tahril, idly scanning the map. "Just as well, really. They were about to send in the tanks."

"Were they."

"Yes."

The Chaos Lord was silent.

"Rhinos," added Tahril.

Silence.

"Or, dare I say, metal bo-"

"Will I never live that down?!" roared Carron.

Tahril smirked and plucked a jewel-encrusted chalice from his desk. He raised it to his nose, savouring the bouquet of the rich, red liquid within.

What was it the humans called this again?

Ah yes. "Kool-Aid."

"No," said Tahril, taking a sip. "I don't expect you will."


	5. Dawn of War

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

However, in the star system known as "Kaurava", the war is a simulated one.

It began as a single seed of doubt in the mind of Governor-General Vance Stubbs. A decorated war veteran, Stubbs was charged with liberating Kaurava from the feral Ork tribes that dwelled on Kaurava II. The tribes had been a thorn in the Imperium's side for decades, but with the arrival of their new Warboss, Gorgutz 'Ead 'Unter, the infighting that once crippled them had stopped. They had become bolder. More co-ordinated. The thorn was getting bigger, and the wound was starting to turn green.

It seemed a straightforward challenge to drive them out, Stubbs thought. Difficult, yes, but not complicated.

Then the Necrons had shown up. Then the forces of Chaos, traitor marines of the Alpha Legion. Then the Eldar. The Tau. The Adepta Sororitas. All vying for Kaurava. None willing to share.

Soon, "straightforward challenge" had become, to use the General's own words, "insurmountable clusterfuck."

Year after year, battle after battle, thousands upon thousands of men gave their lives to accomplish nothing. Stubbs would seize an enemy province, only for the enemy to marshal their forces and seize it right back. Soldiers had begun using the bodies of their fallen comrades as sandbags, and nobody had stopped them. It was only practical. Sand was harder to find.

The breaking point came when Stubbs' forces clashed with Brother-Captain Indrick Boreale and his Blood Ravens.

These were two men of like minds. Their goals were the same; to destroy the invading Xenos and Chaos armies. Their motives were the same; to serve the immortal God-Emperor and the Imperium of Man. They had every reason to be allies. And yet here they were, at each others' throats, through nothing more than the negligence of their superiors.

Until that day, every one of Stubbs' soldiers _knew_ that the Adeptus Astartes were the saviours of the universe; the living will of the Emperor, beyond all reproach. He still recalled the reaction of a certain guardsman when news spread of the Marines' arrival on Kaurava. "That's it then, sir," he'd said, smiling from ear to ear. "We win."

Stubbs had watched that guardsman's face during the battle. He'd watched every trace of light and hope bleed from his eyes as he was forced to strike down his heroes, and be struck down in turn. He had watched as Boreale broke through his defences and thundered towards him, chainsword in hand. But rather than meeting the Space Marine's charge, Stubbs simply held up his hand and spoke.

"You know what?" he said. "This is stupid. This is actually really stupid."

Perhaps Boreale was moved by the General's sudden candour. Perhaps it took hearing the words aloud to realise he'd been thinking them all along. Whatever the case, he couldn't help but agree. Too much of the Imperium had died for the sake of this damned system. There had to be another way to settle things.

It was not long before Stubbs discovered it.

* * *

><p>It was recovered during a scouting mission on Kaurava III. A truly ancient relic, predating perhaps even the Imperium itself.<p>

"How do you know it's a relic?" Stubbs had asked.

"Because it's got 'Relic' written on it," said the scout.

Admittedly, it wasn't much to look at. A simple, red box, barely longer than a man's palm, adorned with symbols and short codes that seemed devoid of meaning. "16+", "DVD-ROM", "THQ". Words, sentences composed of a dialect too archaic to comprehend, were printed all across the front and back.

Despite their best efforts, the only thing the Imperial scholars had managed to translate was the bold, golden text in the centre.

"Warhammer 40000: Dawn of War- The Complete Collection."

Within the box was a set of disks, which were discovered to contain a war simulator of sorts; perhaps a means by which the tacticians of times gone by could hone their skills. It was, of course, far too primitive to be of any use. By modern standards it was little more than a toy, a game. Still, if only to satisfy his own curiosity, Stubbs decided to investigate further.

What he found was extraordinary. The disks contained a perfect representation of the Kauravan war, the very war he was fighting in. The nine factions involved, the various units they fielded, their tactics, their wargear; even the commanders were identical to their real, living counterparts. There he was, plain as day. General Vance Stubbs. Someone, somewhere, had fashioned a likeness of him, millennia before he was even born.

This was divine providence. A gift from the God-Emperor himself. It had to be. Who else could make such flawless predictions so far into the future?

In that instant, Stubbs knew what he had to do. The disks were sent to the Adeptus Mechanicus, who were ordered to make nine copies of the set, one for each commander of each army.

He first contacted Indrick Boreale, who, in the wake of their last battle, had agreed to cease hostilities until their true enemies were dealt with. Boreale shared Stubbs' faith, and was easily convinced that the disks were a blessed artefact of some kind.

Unfortunately, shortly afterwards, the Space Marine stronghold was attacked by Chaos forces. Boreale was killed, and the Blood Ravens were driven out of Kaurava permanently. It was the first real progress anyone had made since the whole wretched fiasco began, and it had come at the worst possible time.

Stubbs was not deterred, however. He sent one of his men, disguised as a freshly converted cultist, to deliver the disks to the Chaos Lord, Firaeveus Carron.

Carron was likewise astonished by the disks' contents, and also took them to be of divine origin...although his idea of "divinity" differed significantly from that of the Imperium. These were surely an omen from the Ruinous Powers of Chaos. Tzeentch, most likely. He'd done stranger things in his time.

That settled it. If Stubbs could talk down a Chaos Lord, even temporarily, he could talk down anything.

Some sides took more convincing than others, naturally. The Orks in particular had to have the entire concept of a "kompyoota" explained to them before even being offered the disks. Eventually, Warboss Gorgutz agreed to try the simulator, if only to shut the humie's yap and get back to fighting.

He was instantly hooked. Violence on tap? A never-ending "Waaaagh!", without fear of ever running out of boyz? What wasn't to like?

Soon, every commander on Kaurava had a copy of the disks, and all agreed that they were significant in some way, if not on the hows and whys. With the eight factions now open to discussion, Stubbs made his proposal.

They would each allow themselves one month of Kauravan time to familiarise themselves with the simulator, after which they would convene for a titanic eight-way death match. The victor would be granted full dominion over Kaurava. The losers would depart peacefully, never to return.

But when the time for the fateful battle arrived, it never took place. Everyone just seemed to forget about it, or have something else to do. Commander Or'es'Ka had been called to lunch with Aun'ro'yr, his Ethereal supervisor. Canoness Agna accidentally stumbled across "blasphemous filth" whilst using her terminal the previous night, and was obligated to take the day off for ritual cleansing. Farseer Caerys had to polish her runestones. It was very important that they be polished, she explained, or else they wouldn't work properly. The commanders conceded that they needed more practice anyway, and the battle was postponed until one week later.

One week became two weeks.

Two weeks became four.

They all claimed that they didn't feel they'd fully mastered the game yet, which was true. But the other truth, the truth that nobody would admit, was that they were experiencing something new; something none of them had known in their lives, even for a moment.

Peace.

Though technically just a ceasefire, it was nonetheless the first time any of them had not been preparing for war, going to war, or actively engaged in war. Without the blood of their soldiers leaving its bitter tang in their mouths, and thrust into communion with one another by the disks, they found themselves...talking. Not arguing. Not threatening or condemning. Just talking. Sharing their thoughts, as equals. Telling jokes. Laughing.

Setting aside the dire stakes, the simulator was actually quite enjoyable. Over time, matches became less about winning the Kaurava system and more about fun. Though many resisted it at first, there was no denying what was taking place.

Stubbs' seed of doubt was bearing the fruit of camaraderie.

The Chaos Marines were heretics, and heretics deserved the fiery judgment of the Emperor. But _apart from that_, they really weren't so bad. They certainly knew how to have a good time.

And yeah, them skinny Eldar boyz was alright. Their hoity-toity act was annoying, sure, and they didn't have one proper shoota between 'em, but SOD if their tanks didn't go fast.

As for the Necrons, they may have been soulless automatons hell-bent on exterminating all life, but at least they didn't rub it in your face when you lost. Or if they did, nobody could tell.

And, with no-one willing to press the issue, such became the nature of the Kauravan conflict. Eight commanders preparing themselves for a showdown, none of them knowing when (or if) it would ever come. A stalemate still, but a benign one.

In the grim darkness of the far future, that was really the best you could ask for.


	6. Spectators

"...then you layer the beef, sausage, olives, mushrooms and cheese, in that order. Wrap it in the dough, bake it up, then just try not to eat the whole thing yourself." Stubbs gazed dreamily at the ceiling. If one thing had kept him from lapsing into total despondence during this miserable war, it was the food. "Best damn thing you'll ever taste. I guarantee it."

"I am...not sure," said Caerys. Her tone hovered somewhere between amazement and disgust. "It sounds rather decadent."

Tahril, who had been quietly taking notes, spoke up. "Is that the usual Craftworld dullness speaking? Or is our dear Farseer afraid she'll lose her figure?"

"Silence, druchii," said Caerys.

"Wossat?" asked Gorgutz.

"Pardon?"

"Wossat mean? Droo-chee?"

"'Handsome devil'", replied Tahril.

"Hah! She wuz talkin' to me, den."

"_It means 'dark one'!" _Caerys snapped. "It is the term we use for his kind. Eldar that have turned to...other methods...to ensure their survival."

"And in the process, learned not to be such dreadful bores." Tahril twirled his pen between his fingers. "What was the temperature for that recipe?"

"Three-fifty," said Stubbs.

Agna sniffed disdainfully. "Frankly, I don't see the need for such fine foods. My sisters and I eat water gruel for every meal."

"Do you? Very frugal of you."

"With simplicity comes purity, General. You would do well to observe the same practice."

"You'll have to send some over," said Stubbs, in his best deadpan. Suddenly, he found himself identifying quite closely with Tahril.

"Pfft," said Gorgutz. "No wonder you lot's so skinny. You needs to get some Grot stew in ya guts."

Silence fell.

"Ya puts some Grots in a pot."

"Nobody asked."

"Den ya eats 'em."

"Lovely."

Or'es'Ka, with just a tinge of horror in his voice, spoke. "These would be...living Grots."

It wasn't a question. He knew the answer.

"Ya can chop 'em up first," said Gorgutz. "If ya just wants a snack."

Stubbs grinned to himself. The downtime between games always brought a feeling of contentment with it.

During a match, the commanders' military discipline came to the fore. If anyone other than Gorgutz talked, it was to discuss tactics, warn of incoming fire or request backup. Otherwise, the conversation could go anywhere, and often did. Here he was in his nice leather chair, having his stomach turned by tales of the Orks' disgusting eating habits, and life was good.

It was a rare moment too, for all eight of them to be present at the same time. Or were there only seven?

"Necron? Are you there?"

Tap.

A rare moment.

"Hmm," said Stubbs.

"Something the matter, General?" asked Agna.

"I was just thinking. We've never actually had an eight-player match, have we?"

The chatter's heart stopped. For one chilling moment, Stubbs heard nothing but the faint barking of the sergeants outside, preparing the men for a combat drill.

He realised, too late, what he had just implied.

"Uh, I don't mean THE eight-player match," he said, quickly. "Just AN eight-player match. A team game. Four on four."

"Oh," said Agna. The frost in the air melted away. "No, I don't think we have."

"Well?" prompted Stubbs. "How about it? We're all here. Doesn't seem like anyone's busy." He swung his legs off his desk and slid his chair forward. "I'll lead team one. Rest of you?"

"Two," said Or'es'Ka. His warrior pride still stung from his last defeat at Stubbs' fingers. The remaining commanders made their calls in quick succession.

"Two."

"One."

"One!"

"One."

"Two."

Or'es'Ka blinked. That last "two" had come from Caerys.

"Team two, Caerys?"

"Yes," she replied. "If you do not object."

"Not at all. I just thought you'd want to be on the General's side."

"...excuse me?" said Caerys.

"Er. Yes?"

"What are you inferring, exactly?"

"I..."

Or'es'Ka trailed off. He knew, from her inflection, that he'd misspoken. He just wasn't sure how.

"Nothing. I just..."

"You just think I need him to compensate for my ineptitude?"

"No! I just...thought you liked playing together. That's all."

Caerys didn't respond. Or'es'Ka sat stock still, as if movement might somehow invite the Farseer's wrath.

He wasn't good at interpreting silences. Was this a "situation defused" silence? An "appease me further" silence? An "I'm not talking to you anymore" silence? How was one to tell without body language? Without facial expressions? Where was a Water Caste diplomat when you needed one?

There was no way out. He'd have to take a shot in the dark. Steeling himself, he placed his finger on the trigger.

"As friends, I mean."

"WHAT?"

Or'es'Ka slapped his forehead.

Some day, he vowed, he would shut up. He would just shut right the hell up.

* * *

><p>Loading screen. Background picture of an ill-fated Haemonculus facing a Necron Tomb Spyder.<p>

Team one: Imperial Guard. Sisters of Battle. Orks. Dark Eldar.

Team two: Tau. Chaos. Necrons. Eldar.

Progress bar: Two-thirds in. Stuck.

"Soddin' fing takes forevva," Gorgutz grumbled.

Normally, Stubbs would attribute it to Orkish impatience, but in this case, he had to agree. Software this old should not take so long to load.

Two soft beeps. The game began.

"Um," said Or'es'Ka.

* * *

><p>"Holy Terra," said Stubbs, letting his hand drop from the keyboard.<p>

It had seemed innocuous enough to begin with. First, Or'es'Ka said that he couldn't interact with his units or structures. Perhaps Stubbs had allocated a CPU player by mistake?

But no. Soon everyone on team two was complaining of the same problem, or in the Necron Lord's case, making a series of indignant clanking noises. They could see everything taking place, but they had no control. Spectators, all four of them.

Some of the colours were wrong too. Carron's marines wore blue armour with a silver trim; these ones had been dark red. Likewise, the Tau were garbed in sandy brown, rather than the striking crimson of Or'es'Ka's Fal'shia sept.

Ultimately, team one decided to play the match to completion; partly in the hopes of finding out what was going on, and partly because Gorgutz didn't want to sit through another slow-arsed loading screen. And now, in the aftermath, they stared at the message declaring their defeat, none the wiser for it.

They had been _slaughtered._

"What happened?_"_

"Someone must have hijacked the game."

Stubbs frowned. He'd never bothered with passwords or any other protection when hosting a match. They were the only ones in the galaxy who owned the disks, after all. What would be the point?

"Nine copies of the disks exist, correct?" said Agna, apparently reading his thoughts. "But only eight of us remain. Could someone have got hold of the last one?"

"Possibly," said Stubbs. He'd sent numerous scouting parties to recover the missing set, but there had been no trace of it. He just assumed it was destroyed during Carron's assault. "Anything you can offer, Caerys? Any hints? Visions?"

"I have been trying," said Caerys. "I will need more time to perform a proper divination. But I believe Agna's theory is a sound one."

"Let us know if you come up with anything. In the meantime, if anyone's running a match from now on, make sure it's password protected. Hopefully that'll keep it from happening again."

"Who would do that, though?" said Or'es'Ka. "And why?"

No answer was forthcoming.

"Come now," said Tahril. "Must we be so dreary? Surely I am not the only one who enjoyed seeing the good General lose a match."

"What are you talking about?" said Carron. "You were _on his team_."

"Yes. Your point?"

Stubbs smirked. "Keep practicing. Maybe you'll see it again. Maybe."


End file.
